Strawberry Season
by Lady Silvamord
Summary: There are just a few things that the Emperor Mage can't resist...


_Strawberry Season_

Challenge Eight: Write some fluff, centered around your favorite anti-hero, while keeping him or her as in-character as possible.

**Title: **Strawberry Season

**Rating: **PG-13

**Words: **1,431

**Summary: **There are just a _few _things that the Emperor Mage can't resist…

**Note: **Ozorne/Kalasin, fluffy. Involves less-than-conventional use of strawberries.

Dedicated to the lovely **Gem, **for her help betaing this. You rock, chica. –hugs-

Nominate a fic in the Circle of Heroes awards! The link is on HuntressDiana's profile.

-

Sixteen is a difficult age.

When Ozorne was sixteen, he experienced his first three love affairs—which wouldn't have been a bad thing, if all of them hadn't failed miserably. His father decided to hate him, his mother had a secret affair with the Prime Minister, and his sister Fazia fell hopelessly in love. Perversely, this was what irritated him the most. She wasn't young enough to be his puppet, not gullible enough to believe everything he said, suddenly had a mind and a backbone of her own—when had _that _happened?—and he found that he simply had no more use for having a little sister anymore.

And things went downhill from there, until he turned seventeen. Ozorne had never been more relieved to wake up on his birthday, and he enjoyed the celebrations immensely

(He was so happy, in fact, that he got extremely drunk and shared a passionate kiss with Arram Draper. But he tried his best to forget about that.)

--

Kalasin turns sixteen in the spring of 457. Her birthday coincides with the beginning of strawberry season, which is fitting, as strawberries are her favorite fruit.

On _her _celebration, she got equally drunk. She cornered Ozorne in the middle of a dark hallway, pushed him against the wall, and kissed him very hard. He was too shocked to do anything much, for the first few moments, too tied up in noticing that she tasted like exquisite wine and strawberries.

Ozorne realizes, later, that dealing with a sixteen-year-old girl fills him with a sense of not-so-unreasonable trepidation. It promises to be a very interesting year.

--

They're working on documents of state together; at least, Ozorne is working and Kalasin is trying to keep herself from falling asleep. Trade reports on agriculture aren't her idea of a good time.

Sighing, she reaches out and takes a strawberry from her bowl. Absentmindedly, she begins tracing the plump strawberry against her lips, savoring the sweet flavor. It drips a little juice onto the back of her hand, and she licks it off.

Ozorne is watching her. "What, exactly, are you doing?"

She smiles at him sheepishly. "Um…eating?"

He gives her an unconvinced look. "Are you finished with your report?"

"Almost."

"Less eating, more writing," he chides gently, and returns to the tax records. Kalasin makes a face at his back. He reminds her of great-uncle Gareth, sometimes.

Frowning, she begins to read the trade report again, and realizes that she can't make any sense of it. _Why would anybody care about the growth of grain in Amar? They could just say 'in 456, the grain didn't grow very well, thanks to locusts.' 'In 455, we had so much grain that we didn't know what to do with all of it.' And yet, two simple sentences take up a forty-page report filled with…farmer language._ Thoroughly frustrated, Kalasin starts rubbing the refreshingly fragrant strawberry against her cheek as she tries to puzzle out the report.

Ozorne is almost finished with translating the records when he becomes acutely aware of the smell of strawberries. He looks over at Kalasin. She's frowning at her paper, and rubbing a strawberry against her cheek in small, soothing circles. The juice stains her skin pink, and yet she continues to do it.

One drop of juice drops from her cheek to her collarbone. She doesn't seem to notice.

The little droplet trickles under her neckline. Kalasin shifts a little, finally feeling it, and rubs it away, before taking a bite out of the strawberry. Yet more juice gets onto her fingers, and she licks it away, taking her time. There's a drop on her wrist, still.

"You have juice all over you," he accuses her, finally.

"Oh, sorry." She licks the drop on her wrist delicately.

He looks at her. "Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

Ozorne has a feeling that this conversation might take a turn for the inappropriate, but he can't stop now. "…Lick yourself."

She wrinkles her nose. "When you say it like _that, _it makes me sound like some dog."

"Well, I didn't mean it like that." His academic curiosity makes him want to press further. "Well?"

"Well, the juice is sweet. And there's no point in letting it go to waste if a little falls on me." Kalasin tilts her head back and gives him a mischievous look. "Does it bother you?"

"No," he replies, a little startled. Ozorne tries to return to his work, but her arm brushes against his knee as she reaches for another strawberry.

His eyes flicker to her over the book he's consulting. Now, she's nibbling it. Taking little bites out of the tip. Finally, she just bites it in half. "Mmm," she says to herself, satisfied. "Don't you want a strawberry? They're _very _sweet."

"I don't like strawberries."

Kalasin brushes the half-eaten berry against his lips, and it takes all of his self-control not to twitch back. The juice is sticky sweet on his mouth. He fights the temptation to lick his lips. "They're _delicious _this season, though."

"I'll…pass." Ozorne is feeling rather unsettled, now. He doesn't liked being toyed with, especially not by a girl with a strawberry addiction.

Kalasin knows when she has the upper hand, and eats the strawberry, feeling victorious. Her eyes never leave his.

His amber eyes narrow slightly, as he gazes at her. She's flushed as pink as strawberry juice, and she takes another one. This time, she traces it across her delicate collarbone, as she pretends to read. Traces it _slowly. _The vivid red contrasts with her lightly tanned skin and the pale blue of her silk nightgown.

The strawberry leaves a line of moisture against her skin.

Ozorne sets the book down firmly, deciding to abandon the pretense. "What do you want?" he demands.

Kalasin gives him an innocent look. "Hmm?"

He runs his fingers through his braided hair. "You are driving me absolutely mad," Ozorne informs her. "I won't have it."

"How am I—"

"The _strawberries, _Kalasin. The damn _strawberries._"

The empress blinks at him, hoping that he can't see how much she's enjoying this. "What about the strawberries?"

"The licking. The biting. The nibbling, the rubbing, the tracing…don't play innocent with me, you little temptress."

"Temptress?"

Ozorne glares at her, and she wilts, knowing she's been caught. "Sorry. I suppose."

"You _suppose._"

"I was just having some fun!" Kalasin retorts indignantly. "I wanted to see how long it would take for me to lure you away from your paperwork."

They stare each other down, and Ozorne has an idea. "You're going to make this up to me."

"Make…make it up to you? What do you mean?"

He gives her a rather dangerous-looking smile. "Come here."

Kalasin scoots over, feeling a little nervous.

"Closer."

She slides into the space indicated, almost sitting on his lap. The strawberry juice that she had traced on her cheek has dripped onto her throat, and it feels a little odd. Kalasin gives him a curious look. "Punish me gently, please," she asks, half-joking.

Ozorne's response is to pull her close, by her wrists, and kiss her, bending her backwards ever so slightly.

She squeaks, though the kiss. _Since when had eating strawberries led to _this?

His lips brush her throat, registering the taste of strawberry. Kalasin shivers a little, in a good way. Ozorne kisses back up to her lips, and she wraps her arms around his neck. Her hands tangle in his hair.

When he pulls away, finally, she feels winded. "Um."

Ozorne eyes her, feeling satisfied. "Better?"

"…You like strawberries, _now,_ don't you?" she accuses.

"Pardon?"

Kalasin blushes a little. "You fairly kissed all the strawberry from me."

Ozorne smirks. "I do. However, it's been a fairly recent discovery. I think I only like it when it's on your skin."

"Hmph," she mutters, filing away the last statement for future reference. "You win."

He squeezes her hand lightly. "Well, then."

"Well, what?"

"Are you going to let me collect my prize, or not?"

Kalasin leans forward and kisses him on the lips. Ozorne almost purrs, tightening his arms around her waist, as they settle against the other side of the sofa.

The plate of strawberries lies on the floor, completely forgotten.

-


End file.
